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October 26, 2006
monster month - 17
by sven at 8:00 am
Further sketches, contributing to Jeffrey Roche's "Monster Month" event.
This is the larva of malice. It finds its way into the bully or the "mean girl" on the playground, and slowly wriggles its way into their heart.
At first, perhaps, the bully merely apes the sarcasm of his own parents... Or obliviously delights in the power of taunting his victims, unable to connect to the reality of their hurt... But as he works his misdeeds, an alien force progressively possesses his body. The larva feeds off of his malignant acts, and contributes back an addictive adrenalin-cocktail high. The potential for any other future for the child is inexorably erased.
Over the years, the insect hollows out the child... Growing and growing until, in the human host's maturity, you can almost see its form rippling and writhing, just beneath the surface. Waiting to tear open its false skin.
Dozens of jet black eyes. Two facial tentacles (tongues?) that lick in and out laterally from a tube-shaped proboscis (somewhat reminiscent of a gas-mask). Six breasts, each with two separate nipples, for feeding her innumerable young. Gill slits at the top of the creature's belly, indicating that the majority of the thing's life cycle must be spent underwater. Many small toe-like tentacles at the ends of the legs, providing excellent ability to grip slippery, seaweed-covered rocks. The arms drape down longer than the entire body's length, each rubbery arm ending in two prehensile tongs.
The "mother of tentacles" is ancient, having seen eons come and go. Standing more than ten feet tall, the creature moves far slower than one would expect -- giving it a statuesque bearing. Behind unreadable eyes, the thoughts of this unearthly god permute like the passage of uncaring glaciers.
After birthing a litter of its (almost exclusively male) children, the beast pays no heed to them -- rather, letting the infants suckle and crawl about her body without heed. Only once every few centuries does she venture from her midnight crypt in the Atlantic depths... Coming ashore but briefly, the heavy, quick-moving adolescent offspring are traumatized by exposure to the atmosphere, and drop to the ground, where she leaves them convulsing, to fend for themselves.
posted by sven | October 26, 2006 8:00 AM | comments (2) | categories: bestiary, sketchbook
Comments
Frickin' brilliant stories again, Sven. And I've met more than a few full grown victims of malice.
Posted by: shelley Noble at October 26, 2006 10:46 AM
Thanks, Shells!
Truth be told... I actually have mixed feelings about the "larva" and "maggot in his heart" discriptions. On the one hand, I'm very interested in dealing with abusive personalities as a subject for art... But on the other hand, I don't feel entirely right about doing so through fantasy.
Cruelty is so commonplace, yet ignored... Putting it in the context of fantasy feels like I'm contributing to denial -- to the sense that "it doesn't really happen, it only exists in the movies and on TV."
Creating surreal monsters that are the causal force behind abuse also doesn't feel quite right. My sense is that the people who put others down, want to punish, and occassionally slap/hit/murder -- these aren't generally sensational, Springer-esque personalities. They're far more similar to you and me than is comfortable to admit...
Which is a big part of what makes doing social change work on violence issues so difficult. It's not a "them" issue. The roots of the problem are very much embedded in what we all think of as "normal" and "OK."
Posted by: sven at October 27, 2006 8:54 AM